Daughter of the Stone by Char Marie Adles (best black authors txt) 📖

Daughter

Of the Stone

Char Marie Adles

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Copyright © Char Marie Adles

Cover Design © Wicked Cover Designs

wix.com/wicked_art/wicked-cover-designs

“Everything happens for a reason in this world, whether it happens for the better or the worst can only be seen after it happens. One can only be what fate has given them by blood.”

Those were the last words spoken to me by my mother before the events that would end my life and change my fate, started.

One day long ago when I was still a small child, I was taught magic by my mother, something didn’t seem quite right within the world. I had gotten a feeling of darkness to come and when I told my mama, she had gone pale white and whispered, “So it has begun…”

She rushed through the home collecting everything that had to do with magic and she hid it in the hollow of an ancient enchanted tree in the forest to be kept safe until we could return. At the time I thought maybe we were going to go visit someone who knew mama, but it wasn’t so. That night as she held me tight in her arms she whispered, “Remember the name Merlin, my little one. He is your father and when you are free you must stay with him. Do as he says and live. If he finds out you are his child then your fate will change. You will die. Remember and heed my words for this will be the last time you see me.” She had started to cry then, the tears streaking down her beautiful exotic face when the shouts began outside. 

As a frighten child I saw the devil’s fire spread out the window of our stone manor. Its glowing red eyes looking for something. Giant men covered in metal and leather destroyed the city piece by piece and me and mother were next to be taken and tossed into the dirt covered stone streets. Mama fought all she could, but it was no use, she was too weak and for some reason she didn’t use her magic. I had screamed for her as she was raped by three men, as I was held back and beaten.

When the world seemed to grow quiet and the screams and sobs of women and children stop and the shouts of men died, I stared at my mama in the dirt her beautiful face beaten and bloody. I screamed for her, but I didn’t hear my own screams. Everything slowed down and in a flash whipped back into swing.

“Mama! Mama why don’t you-” I screamed at her, tears rolling down my cheeks.

   She simply shook her head weakly and stayed lying on the ground. She pressed a finger to her heart and then to her lips in a sign of silence. I hadn’t known what she meant, but I fell silent just the same. The big men could not know of our magic.

The evil men laughed at her as a silent tear fell her eye and traced a clean path over her dirty cheek. When they started to leave one took an interest in me. His metal masked looked as if it were carved by demons.

“We have a pretty little thing here, don’t we,” he asked the others after grabbing my long black hair to pull me up. I cried out in pain. “What do you think we can get for her? I’m sure there are others still alive we can fetch a fair price for.”

            “Take the lot ‘o them. They will sell well for slaves at the King’s Market,” one laughed, his voice full of malice.

Six other little girls and I were taken on a strangely carved giant wooden ship. They had to tie me down to keep me from jumping overboard to go to my mother after I tried a few times already. But I knew she was dead, one of the men had slit her milky white throat.

The journey took three weeks to reach the great land of the kingdom from our small isle. We were tossed into the back of a wagon and taken to the ‘capital city’ as the warrior called it. The place stank of livestock and smoke, straw was strewn over the cobblestones of the roads and in the giant market square people swarmed. People yelled and rushed at each other, people made deals with the dealers and others seemed to be waiting for something bigger to happen.

The wagon was stopped in the center of the square and we were taken into a tent behind a large plat form that was raised from the ground with two sets of steps on either side. Tossed and locked into a crude wooden cage, we got as close to each other as possible.

            My small body had shivered in terror at what was happening and I had another feeling that told me what was going to happen.

“What’s going to happen to us,” Chloe, a small girl of seven, whispered to us in fear.

“They mean to sell us…” I had whispered and she had started to cry.

It wasn’t long until we noticed in other cages were women, boys, and other girls of all ages, even men. And it wasn’t long until they started to take them out of the cages and tent, to the platform. They were sold one by one until we were the last ones left.

“And now for our rare treat. I give you girls from the Avalon Isle of myth thought to be lost. A high price is needed for them. Those were said to be magical and have fey blood,” the auctioneer said in a quite voice to draw in the crowd.

            A big ugly man came to the cage and pulled Chloe out first. We grabbed her hands, but we were knocked back into the cage.

“Save me! Save me,” she begged, but all we could do was cry helplessly and watched.

Chloe was sold for six silver pieces, Amber for one gold piece, Braine for four silver pieces, Elizabeth for seven silver pieces, Little Katie and Emma were sold together for one gold piece, and finally I was the last one. Unlike when the other girls were dragged out and the men started to war over them with prices, when I walked out everything was silent.

I stared into the stunned, dirty faces of the men who were crowded around platform. There had to be at least a hundred of them.

            Mama please helps me, I begged silently. But there was no reply like before, just an emptiness that felt hollow.

            The auctioneer suddenly turned to the crowd a bellowed out, “We’ll start her off at ten silvers! Anyone take a bid?” 

I stood there stone faced as I listened to the price go higher and higher. Even at six years old I knew that I couldn’t do anything to save myself, so I looked over every face and looked beyond into the square and there I had seen him for the first time. An old man with long frost white hair and a long white beard, both smooth and long like the finest silk and with him walked two young boys side by side. Both around my age, but completely different. One was fair colored with bright blonde hair and green eyes and the other with long black hair and blue eyes like stars. The blonde boy had a cheerful smile on his face, but it was the black haired boy with the withdrawn look that kept my eyes.

He had turned, his eyes pinpointed me as if he knew I was the one who stared at him. The moment his gaze found mine, something inside of me clicked. I was stunned by the shocking feeling and as I watched he quickly got to the old man and he too looked my way. I was ripped backwards by the man holding me.

“Sold for ten gold!” the auctioneer shouted.

I looked out of the waves of the crowd to see the old man staring at me with drawn brows, then a scratchy bag was place over my head and I was given to my new owner and master.

For nine long years I was his slave and did his bidding. The man had bought me to become an assassin. He trained me hard and along the way I lost what little of my mind I had left. Everything turned meaningless and worthless, but on the one day I failed my master’s orders, I was beaten until I lay almost dead then I was taken back to the slave market with his words, “She is useless now and after so much work. A pity because she is pretty, but we won’t have a problem with her. She is insane, mindless like a doll and cannot talk as a mute. Let her go be someone’s whore.”

I hadn’t cared. It was no longer my life and I had no reason to live, but for the secret of my magic. As long as I protected that, nothing else mattered.

 Until I saw him again.

The old man was in the square with two grown men looking at herbs at the far end of the market. The men were in fine robes of the finest silk and cotton dressed similar to the old man, but I knew who they were. The blonde one still wore that easy smile and had grown handsome, while the blacked hair man had a look of reserve like when he was a boy. His hair was longer now and tied back to stay out of his face reaching just above his hips and he had grown beautiful. There was no other word for him. And like years before he turned and his gaze met mine as if he sensed me.

I was fourth in line to be put on the platform and sold and he stopped dead at my look. For the first time since I was sold I felt a desperate need to be free.

He walked away from the old man and the other man who was talking to him starting over towards the platform. I lost him in the crowd.

When I was placed on the stage the men went crazy.

“Two silver!”

            “Six silver!”

            “No, eight silver!”

“No,” rumbled a deep voice from the back, “Twenty gold.”

The crowd parted in silence as the men gasped and the bidder walked forward. It was the black haired man.

“Going once! Going twice! Sold to the young man here!” the auctioneer shouted with glee over making so much money.

            I wiggled in the ropes that bound my wrist.

What is happening? Why did he buy me just now? My mind screamed at me wanting the answers.

He handed the auctioneer the small bag of gold and came to stand in front of me below the platform. His expression was dangerous and distant, and then turned